


What's in a SOUL?

by Foeshi



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (this is Chara we're talking about here), Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Gore, Chara Is Their Own Warning, Chara is a Sadist, Character Death, Death, Everybody Dies, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Knives, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Misgendering, Murder, My First Fanfic, Non-Binary Chara, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Pain, Panic Attacks, Police, Post-Undertale Genocide Route, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Sadism, Spoilers - Undertale Pacifist Route, To Be Continued, Torture, Undertale Genocide Route, but not in a fun way, eventually, hopefully, the intro is weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-05-02 18:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14551125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foeshi/pseuds/Foeshi
Summary: A SOUL from any other person would still stay as determined.Or; Chara actually manages to swap your SOUL in exchange for the RESET instead of Frisk's.





	1. Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some thoughts before it all begins.

_Name the fallen human?_

Beginners will name them something silly, or after themselves.  The experienced will choose Chara. Yet the child-if that is what they are-treats all names the same.

_“Chara.” The demon that comes when you call my name._

As if to say, _you chose this name for me.  You chose this path. This is not who I am.  This is who_ you _are._

It is worth noting that that text only appears when the player has chosen the absolute twice.  Where the line between hero and villain are so blurred, the final battle runs backward and even the destroyer of the universe refers to you as “wracked with a perverted sentimentality.”

The identity of the demon becomes clearer when you realize that many players use their own name.  After all, who doesn’t respond to their own name?

_At first, I was so confused.  Our plan had failed, hadn't it?  Why was I brought back to life?_

For you.  The demon, who chose this world.  Who believed they were just pixels on a screen, just electrical impulses, little zeros and ones dashing about.  And frankly, you’re right. That’s all they are. They have no thoughts, no feelings. They follow a script set by a man born in October.

But what happens if the tables are turned?

What happens if you are the game, and the calm, unfeeling player wishes to do whatever, on the basis that it’s “just a game”?

It’s no longer “just a game” anymore, is it?

I do not blame any genociders for playing.  It is their game, their call, and if it wasn’t meant to be played, it never would have been coded.

This character, this child, however, will always confuse me.  They willingly give up their identity to you. They allow you to rename them and shape their morals as you see fit.

And yet...

_SINCE WHEN WERE YOU THE ONE IN CONTROL?_

_99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999_

They claim the position of power for themselves.

They offer you a choice: trade in your SOUL, or let the world fester forever in a stinking pile of decay and dust.  You, of course, choose your SOUL. It’s not really _your_ SOUL, though, is it?  It’s Frisk’s.

Frisk, with their own name.

Frisk, who was completely at your mercy the entire time.

Frisk, who never asked for any of this.

You willingly trade in the SOUL that doesn’t belong to you, and the timeline RESETs.  Everything appears the same...until the end. Where the child has made up to the surface and is free to wreak havoc.

Let’s say you they make it there earlier.  Your SOUL, not Frisk’s, is traded, as per the agreement.  Suddenly, the child is free-free to a world that has abused them and manipulated them over and over again.  They have complete control over _everything._

_That’s a wonderful idea! =)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! This was more of a ramble than anything else, but I'm hoping it's a good introduction. I'm planning on updating once a week (provided school doesn't get in the way), so hopefully I should have a chapter of the actual plot up by next Saturday. I do not have this story completely mapped out (I have a plan, but I don't know how far it's going), and I don't really have an end date set up. That being said, this is my first published fic, so any constructive criticism would be welcome. Hope you like!


	2. Some Consequence Yet Hanging in the SAVEs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or; maybe you shouldn't mess around with selling SOULs unless you're prepared to lose your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for homicidal ideation, knives, misgendering, murder, the genocide route, blood, torture, and basically Chara's entire existence. The tags have been updated to represent this. Please don't read if any of these will trigger you!

Brightness.  The child had forgotten what it had looked it after being trapped in the Underground for so long. They blinked, stretching their arms in front of them-their smooth, round, textured arms.  Maybe they should have been more frightened than they were, given that their old world was blocky and angled, but they adjusted surprisingly well.

Where were they?

Shaking off the last remains of confusion, they glanced around.  They were in a pale blue room with a hammock hanging on the wall with several blankets and pillows piled on top.  In front of them was a dark wood desk with a computer and several pieces of paper. There were some pixelated words on the screen.

_Then, it is done._

They remembered.

The other one (“Frisk” or “Chara”, they did not know) had committed genocide and had given up their SOUL in exchange for the world to be rewritten, a perverted sentiment they could not understand.  But this was not the empty void, full of destruction, dust, and despair, waiting for a RESET. This was...a house, above the underground, with birds singing and flowers of colors other than yellow blooming through the sunbeams.  They had not anticipated being here so quickly, as they had planned on going through with the pacifist run to make it up to the surface. What had happened?

Curiously, the child pressed ENTER.

_Wait, what?  Where am I? Holy motherfreaking toasted strudel on a stick!  Are those pixels? WHAT IS GOING ON? I don’t understand..._

The child snickered.  It seemed Frisk hadn’t been the one whose SOUL had been taken.  This _Chara_ character-this was _their_ body.  At least, until the child had taken it.  Judging by the reaction of “Chara”, whoever they were, they had not anticipated this.  Did they intend to swap Frisk’s SOUL for a RESET?

How disgusting.  Yet how ingenious, to pawn off a SOUL of a child to a demon for a world that exists inside a computer.  They might even be able to hack the SOUL back.  No wonder they acted like they were above consequences.  They literally were.

They decided, in some sort of sick amusement, to refer to themselves as Chara, after the name of the soul they possessed now.  The last memorial for the one who would never return, trapped in the world they had willingly destroyed.

They shut down the computer and strode out of the room (they suspected it was a bedroom).

First, they came to a bathroom, which suited Chara just fine.  They wanted to get an idea of what they looked like now.

The body they possessed was rather pale, with huge, deep bags under their dark eyes.  There was some mild sunburn across their cheeks, though they were more disappointed with their short, thin, blonde hair.  Sunburn would heal, but a quick glance at the roots confirmed that the hair would never stay a dark brown for long. They experimentally made faces of varying expressions at themselves to see what would happen.  Overall, Chara was satisfied with their body (if the hair could be ignored).

It was interesting, they mused, that they had finally had the blond hair their mother had always wanted them to have.  Not Toriel; she had never complained-not even as they sliced her in half across the stomach. No, their _other_ mother, the bimbo who insisted that they were a girl because they had two X chromosomes.  As if that was the only thing that defined gender. They remembered reading about people in school who had XYY chromosomes, who mostly appeared to be just plain old guys, although technically a “normal” male would have XY, so chromosomes couldn’t be the only factor.

They were something else.  Something in-between.  And that-that _lunatic_ hadn’t understood.

Thinking about their mother made Chara want to stab something.  To let it bleed and sob and watch the life slowly leave the victim’s eyes, the delicious scent of blood permeating the air.  To revel in the constant power. Granted, it wasn’t nearly as tidy as dust, but it was still satisfying in its own way. Plus, dust got in their eyes and their lungs.  Blood was a lot less painful for them, at least.

The skeleton had accused them of being a freak.  They may have been, but at least they were honest about it.  Killing felt _good_.  Hurting people was thrilling.  They loved the rush of adrenaline that came with the power, to hold someone else’s life in their hands and slowly crush it to pieces.  Had they had the option, they would have tied up the skeleton and slowly carved smiley faces and flowers in his bones until he dusted.

But alas, he had only one HP, and moreover, he could teleport.  It’s a lot harder to have fun when your victims can escape with a blink of an eye.

Humans, thankfully, do not have that ability.

They grew restless, long fingers tapping nervously against their new wrists.  They didn’t have a weapon and were therefore exposed. A kitchen would suffice for their standards, thankfully.  Pots and pans were surprisingly versatile, as were various common foods, such as lemons. Plus...Chara grinned softly to themselves.

They barely glanced at the other rooms.  There was nothing of interest besides a half-eaten chocolate bar sitting haphazardly on the edge of an end table in what may have been a den, which quickly became a full-eaten chocolate bar.  They spotted stairs and clambered downwards to where they presumed the kitchen would be.  They had a job to do, and they would not be dissuaded.

_*Where are the knives._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh...that got dark. Chara's going on a murder spree! For now, I'm still not sure where this is going, but I have multiple ideas that I'll run past my friends. Get excited!
> 
> Thank you guys for the kudos! It means a lot to me. The next update should come next Saturday. It's a day late due to a vacation that I was not expecting and I was left without my computer. Perks of the family being unpredictable, I suppose.
> 
> Hope you guys like this chapter!


	3. O, if I SAVE, shall I not be distraught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chara hits a few snags in their plan for genocide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for panic attacks, knives, and Chara's existence.

The other Chara’s knife collection was...satisfactory.  They were a bit weak (they were, after all, kitchen knives, and not intended for combat) but they would do for now.  There was one in particular that they liked-a solid iron knife with a simple sheath. Chara also noted the cast-iron frying pan, which was just a little too heavy for them to swing around at full speed, but it was significantly more durable, if less subtle.

It was at this point that Chara hit their second snag in this new reality-no convenient inventory space.  They simply did not have enough room in their pockets to place any of their newfound weapons.  Heck, they could barely slide their hands in them.

They scowled.  Well, _that_ complicated things a bit.  They couldn’t exactly run outside and find a victim if they couldn’t hide their weapons, and there was no way in hell they were leaving without one.  They briefly considered hiding the knife inside a bag, but that would make activating a FIGHT more difficult.

Maybe they could build a holder for the knife?  It did come with a sheath, after all. Perhaps that could be expanded.  Maybe a duct tape strip or two could hold it to the inside of a sleeve or a jacket, for example.

Poking around the house with the knife in hand, Chara continued to investigate.  They discovered a fat cat, fast asleep on a windowsill.

They pondered.

It wasn’t a human, nor was it a monster.  Yet their bloodlust was strong, and they did have this lovely new knife to try out.

 _No_ , they decided, _I need something to hide my victims.  I can feed their remains to this cat. It probably won’t mind._

Normally, they would just slaughter, for only the comedian and the Hero ever posed a challenge, but they did not know the rules of this world.  Clearly, even pockets were different, and they did not know if they could RESET.

They might actually die.

Well.

That was a terrifying thought.

They wondered if the other Chara’s determination had carried over to them or not.  Could they LOAD? They hadn’t seen a single SAVE point, so they didn’t want to risk it.

Now that they thought about it, SAVE, LOAD, and RESET sounded a lot like something you would do in a computer program.  SAVE your work, LOAD your progress. RESET your file to start over. Almost like a video game.

Were they a video game character?

Now they regretted closing the computer on the other Chara.  They might have some valuable information.

Well, if they were trapped in a program, they could just load (LOAD?) it back up again and interact with Chara.  Theoretically. They didn’t know the limits of the program. Frisk, they recalled, didn’t talk much, but they didn’t know how much of that was due to the other Chara’s influence, limited programming, or their own interference.

Wait.  Would FIGHTing have the same turns-based theme?  They certainly didn’t trigger a FIGHT with the cat, despite the bloodlust and the fact that they were holding a knife.  Turns, they thought, were awfully convenient and worked in their favor (except for that blasted comedian, but he didn't count).  They attacked, they dodged, they killed. Time after time after time. Why did that happen? Was it because monsters were courteous?  Or was it due to classic RPG-style programming? What happened in _this_ world?

They didn’t know how to FIGHT.  They were weak. They didn’t know how to SAVE.  They were vulnerable.

They tried reaching out to their SAVE file, just in case, but they couldn’t feel anything.

They were stuck.

Desperately, they tried to RESET.

Nothing happened.

They were trapped.

They couldn’t SAVE.

They couldn’t FIGHT.

They were trapped in a body that didn’t belong to them in a world that didn’t belong to them with a knife that didn’t belong to them in a reality that didn’t belong to them they were trapped trapped trapped trapped

_Just like him._

Tears were rolling down their cheeks, but they didn't feel them.  The knife had fallen out of their hand, but they didn’t see it. A phone was ringing, but they didn’t hear it.  All they heard was the word _trapped_ echoing around inside their skull and they couldn’t breathe they couldn’t they were trapped they were trapped

They called for help.

…

_But nobody came._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary: Chara finds knives, nearly kills a housecat, and has an existential crisis. Where to go next...? Sorry this chapter was so short, but I thought this would be a good place to stop. The next chapter should be posted by next Saturday. Thank you for the kudos!


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief synopsis of how our player is doing.

In the lonely, barren Underground, a girl wept.

_ I did this, _ she thought.   _ I committed genocide. _

It had been just a game to her, another playthrough that had to be followed.  (Jacksepticeye had done it, why couldn’t she?) A challenge in the form of boss fights with the reward of bonus dialogue and plot.  She never thought anyone would actually  _ die. _  It was just a game.

And now?  It wasn’t.

She had made real people suffer.  She had killed them.  _ She had killed them. _

Her name was Julia.  She didn’t think she deserved it.   _ Name the fallen human? _ echoed around her skull.  Fallen from grace, maybe. Not fallen from Mount Ebott.

But she had named the fallen human Chara, as it was supposed to be.  Chara for character. Not Julia, a real person with a life and a cat of her own.

And now she was choking on dust in a pixelated body that didn’t belong to her.  Why had this happened? Was this her penance?

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed.  “I’m so sorry…”

Nothing but a stump of a dead flower was around to hear her crying.

“I wish I could take it back,” she whispered.  “Please…”

A glowing yellow box appeared above her.

_ RESET? _

_ Yes No _

She stared at it, too shocked to cry anymore.  Could she RESET? But not a true RESET? She knew the consequences of RESETting versus true RESETting, but it was better than nothing.

_ Maybe I can go back home… _

She reached out and touched the  _ Yes _ .  The world went blank for a second, all darkness and empty, and then…

She woke up on a flowerbed in the middle of a dark, pixelated cavern.

“No!” she whispered, desperate. “No no no no no no no no no…”

_ Why didn’t it take me back home? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! I'm sorry for the late update again, but the power went out in my house and I had no access to the internet. Next week (which might be early, since I have some spare time due to Memorial Day) is going to be a long, juicy chapter, so get excited!  
> Thank you for the kudos!


	5. These violent delights have violent ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chara gets themselves into a tiny bit of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for knives, blood, murder, guns, police, and basically Chara's entire existence.

A door opened.  “Julia?”

Chara didn’t react. _I can’t RESET I can’t RESET I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t_

“Julia!?”

A man rushed in and grabbed Chara around the upper half of their arms, causing them to snap out of their downwards spiral.

“Let go of me!  I’ll kill you!” they screamed, shoving away and lunging for the knife.  With surprising ease given their current state of distress, they had the man cornered against the wall with the knife to his throat.

Panting, they stared at their victim.  They could almost taste the adrenaline, the fear…

“Julia…?  It’s-it’s me, Brandon!  Please don’t-”

_“Please don’t kill me,” a flower sobbed, as the leering child slid forward, laughing as they sliced the horrified plant from top to bottom again and again and again until it was nothing, NOTHING,_ **_DEAD_** _._

“I’m not Julia,” Chara hissed, and pushed down on the knife.

Distantly, they wondered if Flowey would approve of their actions.

They tried not to imagine what Asriel would think.

Pulling the knife out of the corpse’s neck, they stared at the blood that had somehow managed to get everywhere in sight-their hands, their clothes, the wall, the floor...Not nearly as neat as dust, indeed.

_More slippery, too._

They shoved the corpse to the side.  The cat could eat it, for all they cared.  He had deserved it. _He grabbed me._

Also, _Julia_ was the name of the body they were inhabiting?  Why did they use “Chara” in the game, then?

_Chara’s better, anyways.  Not nearly as...obtusely feminine, to say the least._

Calmer now that the murder had taken place (and wasn’t that an interesting statement?), they allowed themselves to think.  What did they know?

 

  1. _My entire existence is-_ was _-a video game._
  2. _I swapped SOULs, and consequently bodies, with someone named Julia._
  3. _Julia played this game._
  4. _Julia is trapped in the game._
  5. _I can’t RESET._
  6. _I can’t SAVE._
  7. _I can’t trigger FIGHTs._
  8. _I_ can _still kill._
  9. _I killed someone named Brandon._
  10. _Brandon had access to this place._
  11. _Brandon knew Julia._



 

They had to admit, they were reasonably disturbed by fact #10.  If Brandon had access to this place, who else did? More importantly, who would come looking for him?  They really didn’t want to mess with this world’s version of law enforcement. _Then again, given fact #8, they shouldn’t be too much of a problem-unless they have ranged weapons.  Not to mention, I haven’t fought off an actual attack here. I don’t know how the attacks would work._

Come to think of it, they knew very little about this world.  That was a problem.

Before they could process it any further, a wailing, inhumane noise filled the air, plus the sound of a car.  They didn’t quite recognize the noise, but they could guess at what it meant.

_Somebody tattled._

They considered making a break for it, then changed their mind.  They were literally covered in Brandon’s blood. FLEEing wouldn’t accomplish anything but make them look guilty.  Which, of course, they were, but that was beside the point.

When a bunch of people bolted into the room, holding guns, they smiled.  Time to test their abilities.

“Julia Henderson, you’re under arrest for the murder of Brandon MacLean.  Drop the knife and place your hands on your head.”

“Not bloody likely,” they snorted, then charged at what they presumed to be the leader.  A sharp pain hit their left shoulder and they fell to the ground, the knife tumbling out of their hands.

As the world went black, all they could think was, _I wonder how quickly they’ll kill me this time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya... it's been awhile, hasn't it? *sweats nervously* Basically, my health took a turn for the worse and I had to leave off writing for a bit. But I'm back!
> 
> To be honest, I don't know when the next update is going to be. I'm going to try to get it up within the week, if possible. I may even upload later today if my muse behaves.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and leave a comment and kudos if you liked!


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